Chinks,
As you snore softly in a rhythm which defies the best of music, head on my lap, your story book falling off your clutch and your pencil-box with all its contents outside and around me, I cannot help but thank the stars for you. Look at your bright blue Crocks, so tiny and shiny against my big Grey one. We had shopped together for it at another place, which now seems another time. I do not grudge that you are growing up very differently from me, and I swear I will never bring that unfair comparison between us.
Times have changed for Momie too, honey. Naani has been a notorious bundle to manage. Goodness! So, this is to thank you that you haven't been one. I know you had to leave friends behind too, and that you had all the butter that was served to us without even thinking that Momie will get to know. Yet, having you here, your snore now a heavier one, is such a reassurance. I do not know how we are going to manage the time, between you, me and Tucks -- none of us are ever sane. Our car will stand out in its W amidst all other cars beginning with a D or a U or an H. But the roads will remain the same for each of the cars to tread upon.
C, you will have a new place to 'do-poopy' and so will I. But we will make it our own, and create newer memories, like other spaces in the balcony. I am excited about the neon, reclined chairs in my new office and very, very concerned about how you will manage with your 'bown' ones. Momie is a junior with silver hair, and you are a senior with a new set of teeth. I cannot wait for the day when you will become tall enough to play badminton with me, or like I have done with my cousins, introduce you to the first sip of beer and the first puff of a ciggie. We will once again embrace the novelty. Look, if only you were awake, you would be able to read the language all over faces that we are passing in a jiffy.
But, most of all I wait for that one day when you will read all these letters.
I love you.
All over again,
Momie.
No comments:
Post a Comment